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         Remember when people would invite you over to view slides of their recent vacation? And it was only the potato chips and clam dip that kept you from mumbling a lame excuse and bolting out the door when they showed you the fifth shot of them splashing water on each other at the hotel swimming pool?

        Well, this is going to be ‘zactly like that only different. No clam dip. No swimming pool. And no lame excuse needed. All you have to do is hit the esc key on your computer and boom, you’re outa there. Back to playing Wordle or playing Death Race 7000. Or whatever. Who’s gonna know? No harm, no foul.

        The problem with fulfilling one of the items on your bucket list is the prospect that it might be a profound disappointment. But when it came to our paddlewheel excursion up the Mississippi River (round trip New Orleans to New Orleans) this wasn’t the case. Don’t get me wrong, it was far from perfect. But there’s something about a view like this from the balcony of your stateroom, that makes you forget all of the small annoyances. 

I first visited New Orleans back in the 80’s when my radio station employer sent me out with a listener who’d won a trip to see the Sugar Ray Leonard-Roberto Duran prize fight. (The infamous No Mas fight) I remember thinking The Big Easy was vibrant, electric and a never-ending circus of people, music and fun. This trip it just felt seedy. I think my impression was epitomized by the street person we saw wearing a t-shirt that read “The Savage Life Chose Me.” The highlight of our time in N.O. was a bus tour around the city. Carolyn stayed in the room glued to a T.V. series that pitted aspiring moonshiners against each other in a distill-off judged by professional moonshiners. 

 

Our excursion off the boat in Natchez took us to a sprawling historical graveyard.

There were hundreds of acres worth of tombstones, monuments and above the ground family crypts. (protection against regular flooding) 

This solitary gravestone and its story tugged at our hearts.

 She was known as Louise the Unfortunate. In the late 19^th century she came to Natchez to connect with her fiancee who had mysteriously vanished. (Or, alternately she found out he was already married.) She worked at a number of respectable jobs until hard times forced her to become a bar girl and ultimately a lady of the evening. She was befriended by a local doctor, who upon her death kept her from being in a pauper’s grave by buying this headstone in the local rich people’s cemetery.

        

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On our riverboat, the American Splendor we did some serious sightseeing, and ate splendidly in the spacious restaurant.

Creole shrimp, yum. For you Yankees, the stuff in the middle is grits. Pronounced greeyats.

There was a serious shortage of vegetarian options, but Carolyn got to know the chef and he made her several special dishes. And there were enough sides and deserts to keep her happy. 

There were lots of shipboard entertainment and education opportunities. I sat in on a series of morning water-color classes Carolyn tagged along acting as a combination cheerleader and heckler. (“You call that a musician painting? Cut off your ear, Vincent!!!)

Two of our excursions were especially memorable. The Cajun Pride Swamp Adventure took us deep into one of the bayous. 

Those are just what they look like. Big. Honkin.' Alligators. Cap'n Allen a veteran Cajun gator hunter (with a rapid fire accent so thick you caught about ever third word) gave us a lot of historical and nature information. At least I think that's what he was talking about. 

He told us that when a professional alligator hunter legally bagged an alligator, they used a power washer to clean it before harvesting the parts for sale. Apparently, gators carry around some unsavory diseases. (Are there savory diseases?) Who even knew gator hunter was a career choice? And me a liberal arts major. 

The gators got close to the boat and cap'n fed them marshmallows. Gators love marshmallows. Who knew? We also had a chance to pet a baby alligator. Strangely enough, Carolyn and I passed. 

Vicksburg was the site of one of the most decisive battles of the civil war. Control of shipping up and down the Mississippi hinged on it. Our guide was a great storyteller and filled us in on some little-known facts about the battle. 

Contrary to some accounts, the confederates didn’t surrender because they ran out of food. The truth is Grant outwitted the Confederate HMFDIC. 

 

Apparently General Lloyd Tighman (depicted here at the moment of his death) wasn't the sharpest sword in the scabbard and was easily outwitted by U.S. Grant.

Another highlight of our voyage was being allowed into the pilot house to talk to the paddle wheeler’s captain and pilot about the rigors of navigating a huge and everchanging waterway. I had just read Mark Twain’s “Life on the Mississippi” and marveled at the knowledge (and memory) it took to keep track of all the hazards on the river. Of course modern technology has simplified things some, but it’s still impressive.

This trip was special, despite some long airport lines, dealing with occasional whiners and little bumps in the road (river?) For anyone with a strong sense of history it's highly recommended. There's something magical about watching history roll by your balcony as you reread Huckleberry Finn while enjoying a complimentary bourbon and diet coke in the 4th floor lounge.